


deep unconscious & second skin

by ACatWhoWrites



Category: EXO (Band), K-pop
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Hospital, Alternate Universe - Lawyers, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Chanyeol isn't a major character yet, Doctor/Patient, Doctors & Physicians, Dreams and Nightmares, Dreamselves, Dreamsharing, Gen, comatose character, community: exoleague_fest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-01
Updated: 2018-07-01
Packaged: 2019-05-18 20:40:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14859923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ACatWhoWrites/pseuds/ACatWhoWrites
Summary: Kyungsoo can read minds but keeps a lid on the ability, not utilizing it in court or in his daily life until he feels the anxious thoughts of a comatose patient.





	deep unconscious & second skin

**Author's Note:**

> (Prompt no. 17) This is a beginning. I just couldn't fit in all I wanted to, and there's actually a lot. I'm neither a doctor nor a telepath, so I pulled some things off the internet and some things right outta my butt.

Kyungsoo often feels the itch of someone’s thoughts scratching at his own conscious. He’s learned to ignore the noise, locking his own thoughts away more securely and making a conscious effort to control his feelings. Namely his temper.

But sometimes it is just too difficult.

“The good news is your nose should heal quite well,” his friend and personal medical consultant, Kim Joonmyun, chirps. “The bad news is twofold—You look like you’ve just crawled out of the grave, and the man is suing you for assault.”

“Well, he started it,” Kyungsoo grumbles, gingerly touching the bridge of his nose. Joonmyun pulls his hand away and drops an icepack into it. “If he’d not murdered his wife and tried to play the victim, he’d not have sounded like such a complete ass that I felt the need to straighten him out.”

“Your feelings drove him to throw himself at you, Kyungsoo. That is not good; you _must_ have better control of yourself.”

“Now you sound like Minseok hyung.” The psychiatrist spent many sessions, both in and out of the office, training Kyungsoo and schooling him on his own abilities. Being a scientist, doctor, and another man with enhanced abilities—called EAs by the public—Minseok took a great interest in Kyungsoo, who could conceivably have literally anything he wanted and give anything or nothing in return. Their friendship extends nearly as long as Kyungsoo and Joonmyun’s, and there is considerable trust between them. “It was the only way I could get him out of the courtroom. The longer he was allowed to play victim, the more the real victim would feel invalidated and needlessly guilty, and the jury may have been swayed.”

“Just let this be the last time, alright? I don’t mind patching you up now and then from whatever stupid hobby you’ve picked up each week, but picking fights in the courtroom, unless verbal, just _looks_ bad. You have a good reputation.”

“I do?” Kyungsoo raises his brows but quickly lowers them. It hurts too much. “First I’ve heard of it.”

“You are a good lawyer. You’ve helped many people. You’re also stubborn and bull-headed, which can help in law,” Joonmyun concedes.

“In medicine, too. You made the papers again, with treating that unregistered woman.”

“Thank you for not saying ‘illegal,’ and any doctor who remembers their oaths would’ve done the same thing. We do not choose our patients; we choose our treatments based off of careful analyses.”

“Well said, but you don’t have to sell me on it; I’m already on your side.” Kyungsoo tries to pull at his bangs a little to hide as much of the bruising as possible, but it's a futile effort. His hair still hasn't really grown back from his recent frustrations solved by shaving his head. “I’m pretty sure other doctors would have gotten tired of me by now.”

“If I was a businessman, you’d be my best customer. I can’t turn my nose up at that.”

“You can’t turn your nose up at being offered lunch, either, you glutton. Are you ready?”

“Just let me file these,” Joonmyun pats a thick pile of folders on his desk, “and I’ll meet you in the lobby. Ten minutes.”

Kyungsoo contemplates putting his sunglasses on, to hide his raccoon eyes, but decides against it. He’ll just look like a thug for a couple days; he’ll be healed by the time he sees another client. It could be a bit of a blessing; that Byun reporter keeps trying to get an 'exclusive interview' with him, being an EA in the public eye, but Kyungsoo doesn't want to be a figurehead or fodder for propaganda or the newest fad on the blogging sphere.

He delicately holds the ice to his face, blending in with the general population of the hospital hallways. Some people offer sympathetic looks; others fearfully shuffle even further out of the way. A little boy covers his own bruised nose, mimicking Kyungsoo, and points him out to his mother, loudly asking if Kyungsoo was hit with a ball, too.

Outside thoughts of passersby on the street or from his neighbors in his building are like an itch, but thoughts within a hospital are like a knocking or even clawing at the door of his mind. There’s too much overwhelming sadness and hopelessness. Even to the average person, it’s an oppressive place to be for long.

Joonmyun is a neurosurgeon with an office away from patient rooms and treatment, but Kyungsoo feels residual crises and heartbreak puddling on the linoleum as he follows the signs to the elevators. He keeps a tight lid on himself, holding onto the handle in his mind’s eye.

Passing a nurses station, he keeps his head tilted away but returns one girl’s bow, nearly walking into an unused IV pole when a singular voice pierces through him.

Not exactly a voice, but it’s a _something_ very human and very raw but also very soft. Keeping everything else out, Kyungsoo pulls the fiber from his mind and matches it to a thread. Following that thread, he eventually stands outside a patient room in a wing he's never been to before.

The slider on the wall beside the door actually shows an engraved plaque, not just a print-out with a patient name, room number, and status.

PARK CHANYEOL

Inside, he only sees the lower half of someone lying on a hospital bed beneath a white sheet and green blanket. The room itself is even sparser than the usual room, although it doesn’t seem as sterile, somehow, managing to feel lived in yet cold.

“Sir?” Another nurse stops on her rounds. “Is there something I can help you with?”

Kyungsoo nods to the room. “Can you tell me anything about this patient?”

She sighs and looks through the small window in the door. “He’s comatose. An accident, I think; I’m not assigned to his care, though.”

“Who is his doctor?”

“Dr. Kim. Kim Joonmyun. All of the patients in this hall are his. Is something wrong?”

“No. Just curious. Thank you.” The nurse smiles, a little unsure, and goes on her way. Kyungsoo belatedly realizes he should have asked her for directions but finds a map near a stairwell and makes his way to the lobby.

He even beats Joonmyun, who looks breathless and probably booked it down the stairs rather than take an elevator. “Done and starving. Let's go.”

“Think I can get a pity meal out of looking like this?” Kyungsoo asks. His cheek is starting to feel a bit numb from the ice. Joonmyun scoffs and holds open the door for a couple and their children carrying GET WELL SOON balloons and a vase of bright flowers.

“I doubt it. You're more likely to get thrown out.” They stay close to the building, cutting around to the parking garage.

“But what if I had a note from my doctor?”

Joonmyun laughs. “Is this your way of saying I'm paying?” The locks click as they open, and both men pile into the plush sedan. Kyungsoo likes his own car well enough, and he's perfectly content on the bus or train, but the leather interior of Joonmyun's car is like butter. He feels like it melts around him.

“I asked you out; I'll pay,” Kyungsoo assures. “I'll try my pity ploy later.”

“Tell me how it goes. Could come in handy as a silver lining for my other patients.” The car turns over with barely any sound, interior lights turning on and the center console screen displaying the car maker's logo followed by a feed from the backup camera as Joonmyun backs out of the parking stall.

Seoul National University Hospital is very nearly centered in Seoul, surrounded by every kind of shop and amenity. Joonmyun points out the Tous le Jours bakery sharing the hospital's lot. When it was first established, it as just a bakery, but within the last fifteen years, it's switched to a cafe-style bakery offering various drinks and food other than baked goods. Students in particular enjoy it for the atmosphere as well as food and close proximity to the hospital. Joonmyun's fond of their cakes.

They pass Marronnier Park, a small but popular area bustling with students and Seoulites enjoying the breezy summer afternoon. It was once home to Seoul National University's College of Liberal Arts & Science and School of Law, where two of Kyungsoo's cousins studied for undergrad. It's been a park since before Kyungsoo was born, and he prefers it as a park.

“The chestnut trees' petals are almost gone,” Joonmyun comments sorrowfully.

They park at Hollys Coffee and wait aside for what seems like an entire fleet of young women to leave, laughing together over their plastic cups of iced coffee and tea. Kyungsoo points to a table and tells Joonmyun to go sit, and the doctor obeys. He's on his feet more often than he's not; sitting almost feels foreign.

The boy behind the counter shifts nervously on his feet when Kyungsoo approaches. If not for the sudden pain when he tries to offer a smile, Kyungsoo would've forgotten his bruised face. He doesn't have a big stature or threatening physique, and the suit offers a mature air, but he feels the poor kid's apprehension. “I didn't duck,” he comments, gesturing to his eye, and the kid grins.

Kyungsoo orders them sandwiches and tea; neither are big coffee drinkers. Joonmyun gratefully takes his panini and carefully tears a piece off to eat.

Kyungsoo picks a piece of sausage from his barbecue sandwich and bites off half of it. “Hyung,” he says. Joonmyun looks up at him, hunched over his sandwich after a particularly melted piece of cheese started stretching embarrassingly far. “I saw a patient of yours today.”

“Oh?” He finally tears the cheese strand. “What did they say? Filing a complaint?”

“No. They weren't doing much of anything; they're comatose.”

“Ah,” he sighs. “You mean Park Chanyeol.”

“What happened to him?”

“Traumatic head injury from a fall. We're surprised he's lasted for as long as he has, but everything actually looks really good. He's just...not waking up.” Joonmyun sets his food down and sits back in his seat.

“Most comas last two to four weeks, maximum, and patients usually recovery gradually, becoming more and more aware over time. The first day, they may be awake and alert for only a few minutes. Eventually, they stay awake for longer and longer periods. 

“There's a tool called the Glasgow Coma Scale, and its purpose is to give us a reliable and objective way to record the patient's conscious state for initial and future assessment.” Kyungsoo nods, and Joonmyun explains, “It gauges the conscious state, with three being deep unconsciousness and fifteen being awake and aware and responsive. Mr. Park is a steady three on the scale: no eye opening, no verbal response, and no motor response. The longer he stays like this, the worse his outcome is.”

“But people have come out of deep comas before, right?”

“Oh, sure. It's not common—but it does happen—but there are rarely people without side-effects, whether mental or physical. Once someone's reliably awake and responsive, we recommend therapy to regain their lost skills. Some people need to relearn how to walk or even speak. Those are good outcomes, though.” He rubs his eyes. “The bad ones are those reduced to a vegetative state. Their physical responses are fine, but it's like the soul is just _gone_.”

“Is that how this patient is going to be?”

“I honestly do not know. His EEG results have been normal so far. Other scans don't show anything indicating abnormalities.” He sips his tea and frowns at Kyungsoo, realizing something. “What's with the interest? Do you know him?”

Kyungsoo shakes his head. “It's just...weird. I'm usually pretty good about blocking others out, you know?” Joonmyun nods. He used to try helping Kyungsoo with his telepathy until he started practicing third eye meditation. “Just the feeling of the hospital is creepy to me. No offense.” His friend shakes his head; he gets it, working there nearly every day for years. The success stories just can't balance out the tragedies, sometimes, and buildings seem to soak up residual emotion. “I guess I 'heard' someone scared, and it was loudest from Park Chanyeol’s room.”

“He was awake?”

“No. No, but it was almost as if he was having a nightmare but—” Kyungsoo rubs his head, frustrated. “Maybe not fear but _dread_.” He's not sure why it matters. Park Chanyeol is a stranger, but that doesn't mean Kyungsoo wants him to be anxious or afraid or whatever it was he was feeling. Hospitals aren't known for comfort, but they do what they can, within reason.

He's not sure what could be done for an unresponsive, comatose patient.

“I'm sorry, Soo. I can't imagine what you experience, but we've done all we can for him. For now. If there's a change, we will handle it to the best of our abilities and knowledge.”

“I know, hyung.” Kyungsoo half-smiles. It hurts to lift both cheeks. “It's just sad, I guess.”

“Very. That's no way to live, but the family is hanging on to hope.” They eat quietly for a few minutes, lost in their own thoughts brought on by the entrancing white noise of clinking cutlery on plates and soft ballads over the recessed speakers. “Your last case was a win. Have you checked out any potential clients?”

“Haven't had the chance,” Kyungsoo admits. “I know my assistant has his own ideas—he's got piles of files on his desk for declined, maybe, and best bet—and I trust his opinion. With this, though,” he waves at his face, “I may put new cases on hold.”

“I could write you a note recommending medical leave of absence.”

“Everyone knows that guy decked me.” Kyungsoo tosses a small pile of napkins beside Joonmyun's plate. He doesn't look it, but the doctor is actually rather messy when he eats, focus on food and not manners or appearance. “I don't have any more image to maintain.” He wipes his mouth with a napkin and balls it in his fist to grab his drink. It's slippery with condensation, but the ice hasn't melted enough to water down the drink.

They finish their lunch but go up to the counter for dessert. Joonmyun buys a round strawberry cream cake to go, stating he'll need the sugar later. Kyungsoo gets a plain waffle for the road.

“It may be boring, but it's crispy, and I enjoy it,” he defends his choice.

“Just don't get crumbs in my car.”

“Yes, sir.” The only acceptable crumbs in his car are the crumbs Joonmyun drops in his car. 

Kyungsoo checks his email on the drive back to the hospital while Joonmyun sings along to the radio, and they part ways in the parking garage. Joonmyun has patients and students to look after, and Kyungsoo has research to do.

At his home, Kyungsoo changes from his suit to pajamas and lets his dog outside. He leaves the back door open for them and parks himself on the sofa with his laptop and a fresh ice pack.

Recent news articles related to comas include a Russian woman who eventually died after a coma brought on by surgical complications, a metal guitarist to be taken off life support within the week after a heart attack-related coma, a comatose American security guard who was attacked on the job, and a squirrel in a food coma, which isn't entirely what Kyungsoo wanted to find, but it's both very cute and very relateable.

There are different kinds of comas, brought on by an alarming number of things from head trauma, like Park Chanyeol's case, to high or low blood sugar. Diabetes runs in Kyungsoo's family; he feels that he's going to be all the more paranoid with this newfound knowledge.

Mongmool the dog returns from his excursion in the yard, shakes vigorous enough to turn his collar around his neck, and trots to his human. Sitting, he tilts his head and whines softly.

“You can make it,” Kyungsoo mumbles. He pats the seat beside him, ignoring his dog's whines. The stairs he'd bought for the toy Poodle didn't last; Mongmool had chewed them to splinters and left the mess for Kyungsoo to find with his socked feet.

He closes another tab in his browser; he can read legal documents but can't make heads or tails of medical journals. Even the abstracts are convoluted to him, but he has a basic idea of what Chanyeol is experiencing, at least on a biological level. 

There's just something to his case.

Mongmool gives up his attempts to be lifted to the sofa after Kyungsoo frowns at his high yip. Ears lowered, the dog slinks to his bed and curls up deep in the soft blanket.

Kyungsoo closes his laptop and gets to his feet. His dog wags his tail when Kyungsoo sits beside his bed and eagerly scrambles onto his lap. Growing up with his enhanced ability, he's more comfortable in silence and hasn't tried delving into anyone's minds, even his own. Some things are best left unknown, and—less ominously—knowing everything about someone is plain boring.

But with his dog situated comfortably, Kyungsoo leans his head back against the wall and closes his eyes. Rather than focusing on the ajna chakra, the 'third eye' between his eyebrows, and redirecting his attention to it to silence his mind, he focuses on everything but. The breeze coming through the back door, the city noise and his neighbors' dogs and conversations, birds in the trees, and sweet smell of peonies that opened just that morning. He carefully breathes and opens the door of his own consciousness, allowing the flood of thoughts and emotions of an entire city.

When he was a kid, Kyungsoo visited his grandparents in the plains south of the Han River. After a particularly bad storm during typhoon season, the fields and plains flood, and Kyungsoo and his brother played at the edges of the flooded waters to try and catch tadpoles. Kyungsoo fell in, and that shock and panic is the best comparison to the sensation of millions of instant experiences.

Mongmool licks his fingers, sensing his stress.

Like swimming underwater, Kyungsoo adjusts to the pressure and catches the thread of thought of a woman jogging with her dog. She's singing in her head and chanting to herself for her dog to finally poop. There's an exam she needs to study for; she plans to buy a coffee and some snacks on her way home. He pulls away and follows another thread, farther from home, to a man reciting a paper to himself as he types in his cubicle. Beneath the drone is the stress and suppressed rage of a man overlooked for promotion repeatedly and harboring a fierce crush for the married secretary of his boss.

Kyungsoo returns to the fray of consciousnesses and comes back to himself, slowly pulling back and closing mental doors until he's left only with himself, his own thoughts, and Mongmool.

He's exhausted, but he thinks he has a plan to help Park Chanyeol.


End file.
